


What Was Left Behind

by emmykay



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And those hopeful looks that Suyama sometimes gave him, those smiles.  It was so nice.  But.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Was Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Phix asked for some angst. Blame them.

Sakaeguchi leaned against the bus window, watching as they passed buildings and other vehicles and people. So many people. They all seemed to have so much energy, going out, doing things. It seemed like were so many more here, in Tokyo, than in Saitama, bigger crowds that moved faster.

Maybe it was him, maybe it was his tiredness. 

He was unusually tired today. 

Honestly, he had been tired for - he didn't know. A long time. Since before his mother died. Maybe since the news of the diagnosis.

Just tired. That whole year. He didn't want to ever leave the house. He had managed to get by, one way or another. The whole family helping each other as best they could. It was getting better. The tiredness lifted sometimes. Playing baseball, games and practice, when he didn't think about it, that was good. It wasn't quite what he remembered, but it was still good.

It was the game itself, and a little bit of the people, too. Being around so much energy, from Coach Momoe to Tajima to Mihashi and Hanai. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Suyama lean over the seat to look at him. Sakaeguchi let his eyelids droop down and shut.

Maybe it wasn't very nice to pretend to sleep, but Sakaeguchi didn't feel like talking. More than that, he didn't feel like explaining that he didn't want to talk. Not today. And anyway, why did people think second-base players and shortstops always had to be such good friends? 

He really liked Suyama, he really did. Suyama was good company. Calming, easy to talk to. Sometimes very funny. A nice smile. And those bentos he made were great. He shared those out equally, proving he didn't have a favorite. At least, Sakaeguchi hoped he didn't. God, no.

And those hopeful looks that Suyama sometimes gave him, those smiles. It was so nice. But. Sakaeguchi hoped he was wrong about what those meant. He didn't want that kind of responsibility - he couldn't be the focus of someone's happiness. It was too much.

Sometimes, Sakaeguchi felt like some part of him was missing. There had been some kind of jagged tear in his own emotional fabric that his mother had left with her passing that would never be mended. Like there was something in him that could never, ever be made whole again. 

Sometimes, he felt he wore that lack like an ugly overcoat, largely invisible to everyone who hadn't gone through what he had. He felt that more on the days when he discovered some piece of news had missed him, or the other team members would come in chatting about what their mothers had disclosed to each other or Coach Momoe after some drinks. 

Most of the time, they didn't remember. While that was a little lonely-making, that was better than when they did remember, bringing themselves up short as they recalled he no longer had a mother to complain about, or to cook for him, or to sew the number on the back of his shirt. That was when they would look at him, horrified, and start apologizing. Like that invisible overcoat suddenly became visible, hideous, embarrassing, that everyone had to stop talking until they could all pretend it was invisible again.

And anyway, what good was it to become someone's focus? Sakaeguchi didn't want it. He had been at the wrong end of people's focus after the news came out. He was satisfied with a quiet, secondary kind of attention. The person who needed their attention was Mihashi, anyway. He was the one most important to the game, to playing. And Sakaeguchi needed him so they could all play. So Sakaeguchi could feel better. 

Sakaeguchi was only a second-base player. A good one, he thought, but he was replaceable, especially once they grew past a 10-man team, probably next year. Not like Mihashi, or Abe, or Tajima or Hanai. The thought of being replaced probably never even occurred to Suyama. 

(He hoped to be a good senpai, but it was difficult enough to handle all the responsibilities he had as it was.)

Faintly, he heard the sound of music leaking through Suyama's headphones. It was a little uncomfortable the first time Suyama had offered his earphones to Sakaeguchi. But it got better, Suyama's genial smile seeming like it was something everybody on the team should do. So they did. Suyama had some good taste in music, like Mizutani and Izumi. They had all scrolled through each other's playlists over the course of the past season, finding new music, scorning some old. All good fun. 

Suyama was pretty good-looking. Would make somebody a good boyfriend. He was so nice, so kind, so so - whole. So certain of himself and his place in the world. Able to offer so much. For exactly these reasons, Sakaeguchi knew Suyama could never be his boyfriend. Sakaeguchi was none of these things, and could give little in return.

Maybe he was totally wrong about Suyama's intentions and feelings. Maybe Suyama was already dating somebody. (Even with all the time spent in practice. Anything was possible.) Maybe Sakaeguchi was totally wrong about himself and what he was able to offer.

Still. It was just too tiring to think about what might happen if he did end up being right.

Sakaeguchi made a mental note to speak to Coach Momoe in private, ask that he and Suyama were not put together in the same room once they were in Tokyo. Just to make sure.

Suyama would be great for somebody. Just not him.


End file.
